More Than Words
by SVU-Obsessed
Summary: One-shot post-ep for "Goodbye to all of that". The thoughts of three of the shows main characters. No AU's, no pairings, just what the show forgot. My first Third Watch Fic- please be gentle!


Post ep-fic for "Good Bye to of All That". know there's already one up, but I promise this was in the works before I read that one.  
  
No relationships in here. Just. . . well, it's hard to explain. You'll have to read to understand.  
  
All reviews are greatly appreciated (This is my first Third Watch fic, so I'd love to know what you think!) and I will gladly go down in a flame, if a flame's what it takes to remember my name (Yes, that was stolen from John Mayer).  
  
This does contain spoilers if you haven't seen "Goodbye to All of That". I've also stole John Well's characters and storyline, but will gladly return them once I'm done.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Cruz  
  
I was not a damsel in distress. I was not a victim. I was a cop. And a damn good cop at that.  
  
It shouldn't have happened. Not shouldn't have happened. Didn't happen. It couldn't have happened. I wasn't just any woman. I was a cop. I had taken on bigger and stronger guys. More than one at a time. I was trained to save people in these situations. How could I ever save anyone if I couldn't save myself.  
  
All I had to do was get out, have Munroe drive me home take a shower, and forget this had ever happened. It wouldn't exist anymore. It would all be gone. No one could ever prove that it had happened.  
  
Munroe  
  
Who did she think she was? Just because she was at one point a Sargent didn't mean that she was my superior. Didn't mean she could talk to me that way. Maybe she didn't have a life, but I had a kid waiting for me at home. Not that she cared to find out.  
  
One part of me wanted to det her straight, let her know who was the lazy one. Explain to her that I was not only a cop, but a mother. She could stop being a cop for the night. I didn't get to stop being a mother during the day. The other part of me just wanted to go along with it, get it over with, and get home.  
  
I finally saw her walking down the street. She looked. . . annoyed, I guess. Maybe it was my imagination, but she was walking funny. It was probably just the heels. Heels would do that to a person. And she didn't strike me as the kind who wore heels on a regular basis.  
  
She didn't get the John. After everything that she had said, she didn't get the John. And wanted to go home. Who did she think I was, her personal chauffer?  
  
"We've got three hours left in the shift."  
  
"I said take me home, damn it!"  
  
Man, heels made her cranky.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Cruz  
  
Even though I didn't like her, part of me wanted to thank Munroe for just taking me home. Sure, I had forced her too, but she hadn't pushed me to talk. That I was grateful for.  
  
She dropped me off at my apartment, without asking me any questions. Did she know? She couldn't. No one could. I was a cop, not a victim.  
  
Walking up the stairs was more painful than it had been walking out of the office. I couldn't keep my legs together properly. It hurt, oh God it hurt.  
  
I got inside my apartment safely. It was almost over. Just had to get out of these clothes. Just had to get clean. Just had to burn the clothes. I made it to the bathroom and tore off the dress. In the mirror, I could see marks that were already coming in. They would fade. They wouldn't be permanent. My clothes could over them. No one would be able to see them. I turned on the shower, but had yet to step in. From the door, someone was pounding.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Munroe  
  
Maybe it wasn't just the heels.  
  
As we drove home, her words played over in my head. "If you were half as ambitious as you were lazy. . . then we'll stay until morning. . ." It didn't add up. Less than an hour ago, she had been offering to stay all night to do work, criticising me for wanting to leave on time, and now she was leaving three hours early?  
  
It couldn't be.  
  
When she got out of the car, I looked down where she had been sitting. On the van's light upholstery, there were definite traces of blood. I looked up at her, walking up the steps. On the back of her dress was a definite blood stain.  
  
I turned off the car, took the keys out of the ignition, and went into the building. I looked on the buzzers and found her name and apartment number. Before I had a chance to find the super's a voice came from beside me.  
  
"Can I help you, ma'am?"  
  
I looked to my left to see a doorman on the other side of the doors.  
  
"Yeah, police." I pulled out my ID. "I need to talk to Sargent Cruz."  
  
The doorman laughed. "Good luck." He let me in anyways.  
  
I ran up to the number that had been marked beside her name, and knocked on the door. No answer. I could hear water running. I knocked harder.  
  
"Cruz, it's Munroe. Open the door. I need to talk to you." I was hoping against home that she could not only hear me, but would acknowledge my words. I always had forced entry. . .   
  
The door swung open. She had a robe wrapped tightly around her, and for the first time, I thought I saw a trace of vulnerability on her face. "What do you want?"  
  
Words seemed useless. What could I say to fix anything? To make anything better? What could anyone say? Things would be okay? We'll get through this together? Lies. It was all lies.  
  
"If you take that shower, you'll never be able to prosecute him for rape." Finally, something true. "Get dressed, come with me, and we'll get a rape kit done."  
  
For once, there was no smart-ass remark, there was no sarcasm. She went into the next room, pulled on some other clothes, packed up her dress in a paper bag, and followed me out into the van.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Cruz  
  
What was wrong with me? First I let myself get raped, then I listen to Munroe of all people? What was I doing?  
  
The ride seemed endless. The night was dark, and for the first time in a long time, I wasn't on the lookout for a perp, for drugs, for anything that I could get involved with. I looked up at the sky. Open and endless. I wished it could swallow me up.  
  
When we got to the hospital, Munroe went to talk to someone, and we were admitted almost immediately. I gave a false name and made sure that the nurse knew that I would sue her if she so much as breathed a word of this to anyone. I refused her offer for painkillers and her recommendation of staying the night in the hospital, but took her up on the morning after pill. I had Munroe change the name on the rape kit after the nurse had left, and I got dressed. She drove me home.  
  
"Do you want me to stay?" she offered. She was probably sincere. I just shook my head. I didn't have the energy to think of a comeback. She understood. There was some kind of unspoken agreement with us. She wouldn't be telling everyone about this. I respected that.  
  
She left and I locked the door. Then I got to take that shower I'd been dying to take for three hours.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Munroe  
  
I picked up the phone again, then put it down. I wanted to call her, to check up on her. But I didn't know how much she would appreciate it. Then again, if she did something to herself, it would be my fault.  
  
"This is stupid," I finally exclaimed out loud. I wouldn't call her. I knew that much. But wasn't there something else I could do? I went over to my computer, logged onto the NYPD database, and looked up a number.  
  
"Boscorelli," the voice answered.  
  
"Boscerelli, it's Munroe. Cruz wanted me to remind you of your upcoming court date."  
  
"Yeah, I've got it, thanks. Why are you going Cruz's scutwork?"  
  
I knew the rumours of the relationship between him and Cruz. I had seen them together. I knew it was most than just gossip. I wanted to tell him, get him to make sure that he went to check on her. It would be so easy. I needed to know she was being taken care of, and she didn't want that person to be me.  
  
"Hello?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah. Just don't forget, okay?" Before he could say anything more, I hung up. I guess I was afraid of Cruz and the way she would react if I said anything. And I really didn't need to be on her bad side right now.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Cruz  
  
The shower didn't help as much as I had hoped it would. Everyone says that all rape victims want to do is take a shower and feel clean again. It was a load of bullshit. The shower had just burned my skin and raised my water bill. I still felt dirty.  
  
Maybe it was what I deserved. God knows I was hardly a straight cop. Maybe the dirty feeling wasn't because of what that pervert did to me, but what I've done to other people. The dying declaration. Treating Bosco like crap. Hell, even the day before I had abused my power with that couple who was trying to use me to work out there own problems. But those had never made me feel guilty before. There were few things that did affect me. My sister getting hooked on drugs and me not helping her- no, making her get help. My sister's death.  
  
Lettie. She was who I really needed right now. She wasn't always high. Even when she was, if I really needed to talk, she would be there for me. She was my best friend. I had lost her long before she died, but it still didn't hit me that she was gone until she was actually dead. Dead in my arms. She was the only person who I could talk to right now. God, I missed her.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Munroe  
  
I finally tried calling her. No one picked up. I had to fight the urge to go over there and check on her again. Although she treated me badly, and although she was about my age, I still felt a maternal instinct to protect her.  
  
No. I couldn't. I had done everything I could. I had kept her from making a mistake that she would regret for the rest of her life. I got her to the hospital. I got her the morning after pill. I had offered to stay. Even if she had wanted me to stay. She would have said no. She wouldn't show weakness. She was stubborn as hell, that was for sure. And whatever I tried to do would only make things worse for her.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Cruz  
  
Lettie.  
  
I had to do something. I needed to go for a run, or arrest someone, or rough somebody up. But it hurt too much to walk, let alone run. That didn't leave me with much hope for arresting someone, or roughing someone up. I found myself at the phone. And I found myself dialling a very familiar number.  
  
"Boscerelli," he answered. The sound of his voice made me weak. He was the one man who I had allowed to see me vulnerable. He was the only one who I could think of right now. The only one who might be able to help me. But I couldn't say anything. The words would never come out. And even if they did, he wouldn't come. He would probably laugh. He would probably think that I got what was coming to me.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Animal's trial is next week," I finally said. "You better not forget." It was all I could manage.  
  
"Cruz?"  
  
"Just don't screw it up."  
  
There was silence for a minute. "Maritza, what's going on?"  
  
"I don't want my sister's killer to go free. Is there a problem with that?"  
  
He was quiet again. "Okay, I'll be there."  
  
As the line went dead in my hand, I felt a pain in my chest. It was only for a second, but I still felt it. A pain from having him cut me off.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Bosco  
  
Had all women gone mad?  
  
I wasn't even thinking about my entire history with women, which could answer that question with a resounding yes, but just in the past couple of hours.  
  
Faith was blocking me out. And Munroe was calling for Cruz. And Cruz was calling me herself. And acting- what was it, soft? Sad? Upset? I couldn't tell what it was, but there was definitely something off with her.  
  
I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. It was time to go home.  
  
"Night, Lieu," I said on my way out. The poor sucker was stuck working all night.  
  
"Boscorelli, hold up."  
  
I turned around and walked back to him. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it."  
  
He didn't bother smiling. "I sure hope not. We just got this rape kit in. Everyone else is gone. Can you just put it into evidence?"  
  
"Is that a rhetorical question?"  
  
"Absolutely. Just do it. It'll take five minutes." He handed me the box.  
  
"Thanks a lot," I muttered as I headed to the back. The name on it caught my attention.  
  
Lettie Cruz.  
  
What the hell?  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Cruz  
  
Hours had passed. It felt like days. Time had finally lost all meaning to me. Sleep was impossible. TV was trivial. People were useless. The only thing that I had found comfort in was a CD and a bottle of red wine. The wine really had no appeal to me, but the possibility of mind-numbing darkness was too good to pass up. Glass by glass, the bottle was emptying, but still, nothing changed.  
  
A knock at the door brought me back to reality. My mind snapped out of it's black hole. My body slowly came back to me. My limbs had feeling. My ribs ached. Every part of me was a brutal reminder that I was in fact, still alive.  
  
Whoever was at the door knocked again. I was going to ignore it, but the thought of being able to pull my gun on whoever was going around door to door this late at night was too tempting. Or if it was that bastard. What if he had followed me? This time I could be armed. This time, I would blow his head off.  
  
I got up, pulled out my gun, and looked through the peephole.  
  
What the hell?  
  
I clicked the safety back on my gun, put it aside, and opened the door.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here, Boscerelli?" He was out of his uniform, in jeans in and a t-shirt with his usual jacket. There was no way he was here for work.  
  
"What's going on with you?" He asked.  
  
"Nothing." I raised my arm to support myself against the door.  
  
"You're full of shit." He looked at my stomach, and his eyes grew wide. I looked down and realized that my shirt had lifted up when I leaned against the door. I quickly stood up straight and pulled down my shirt.  
  
"What's going on Maritza?" he asked me for the second time that day. His voice was gentle, almost a whisper. I felt myself slipping. I walked away from the door. He came in and shut it behind him.  
  
"Lock the door," I managed. "Why are you here?"  
  
"I was, uh, on my way out when the Lieu asked me to process a rape kit."  
  
"What's your point?"  
  
"The name on the rape kit was your sister's."  
  
My body shivered, though I wasn't that cold. I was nervous. I was afraid of him knowing. I didn't want anyone else to know. If he knew, then so could everyone else.  
  
"I don't want to know any details," he continued. "I don't need to know what happened, but-"  
  
"What do you want then? Is this laugh at Maritza time? Are you going to tell me about how I deserved it? Well save it. I've already figured that much out." I didn't await a response. I just walked away, into my bedroom. A minute later, I heard him behind me.  
  
"That's not why I'm here. I know that you're not my favourite person, and that you've put me through more shit than anyone else on the force, but I still want to make sure you're okay."  
  
I turned around to face him. He looked sincere. I wanted him to stay. I wanted to tell him everything. I just wanted him to be here for me. And he was. Everything I had wished for was standing in front of me. Was it too good to be true?  
  
"I'm not asking for anything from you. I'm offering to be here for you."  
  
I was losing control. I slowly felt myself slipping into him. And this time, I didn't stop myself.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
That night, I didn't sleep. I didn't turn of the light. But there was one thing that made me feel a little less like eating my gun.  
  
"Do you need anything?" he asked.  
  
I shook my head. I was sitting on my bed, but wouldn't lie down. He came and put a blanket around my shoulders. I looked over a him, sending a telepathic thank you.  
  
I knew that the next day, nothing would be different. He would still hate me. But for tonight, he was here. There was a temporary white flag.  
  
Slowly, he put his arm around me. He wasn't that big a guy, but I still felt safer in his arms.  
  
"Is this okay?"  
  
"Yeah," I said softly. Neither of us moved for a little while. But finally, I broke down and put my head against his shoulder. He brought his other arm around me. I allowed myself to relish the feeling, the one time only safety.  
  
That night, I didn't cry. But I stayed there wrapped in his arms. He didn't expect me to speak. He didn't say anything either. But he didn't have to. There was no need for words. By being there, he had said more than words ever could. 


End file.
